


Shackles (I Just Want to Praise You)

by theweightofmywords



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chains, Dom Harry Styles, Harry Styles Calls Louis Tomlinson Pet Names, Hollywood, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Mirror Sex, Nervous Harry, Please read til the end everything will make sense I promisd, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Service Kink, Spanking, Sub Louis Tomlinson, Subspace, Tommo the Tease, harry wears glasses in this because i said so, kitten and sir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: “I’ll take care of you, Louis,” Harry says. “If that’s what you want.”Louis almost wants to laugh. Here they are, sitting on the floor in the middle of a shitty film set, dozens of people milling around less than a hundred feet away from them. Louis can hear the director ordering the other production assistants around as the other extras chat nervously amongst themselves. Louis’ fingertips are nearly numb from his arms being stuck in the same position for ages, and yet this is the best he has felt in ages.“Yeah, I want that,” he breathes. “Want you to take care of me.”Louis is an extra for a low-budget gladiator movie. His day takes a turn when his shackles turn out to be more than just a film prop, and the production assistant turns out to be helpful in more ways than one.





	Shackles (I Just Want to Praise You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokozyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokozyne/gifts).



> Thank you to K and A for your help with beta-ing and cheerleading <3 
> 
> Title taken from "Shackles" by Mary Mary, because, being the worst person in the world, I heard this gospel song and immediately thought "Hm! That would be a good title for my bdsm fic!"
> 
> Here's the [fic post ](https://louisalbumnow.tumblr.com/post/177393604605/lt2018-shackles-i-just-want-to-praise-you-by) if you'd like to reblog. Thanks!

Louis knew he had to pay his dues when it came to making it as an actor in Hollywood. He had moved to L.A. when he was 20, after working as a tutor and nanny in London while starring in as many Off-West End theatre productions as possible. He had gone to casting call after casting call, doing bit roles in student films and local commercials. Eventually, he had saved up enough money to buy a one-way ticket to California. Hugging his mother, sisters, and baby brother goodbye, he boarded that plane with knots in his stomach and a head full of dreams. 

And now, a few years later, he is sitting on the floor of a low-budget gladiator film, chained to the wall of a fake dungeon with what he is suddenly realizing are very real shackles. As he tries to ignore the ache in his shoulders, Louis considers his dues very much paid. 

“I.. uh, I don’t know why the key… why it isn’t working,” the man stammers as he leans over Louis once more as he tugs at the lock encasing his left hand. “It worked for the other extras.” 

Louis looks around at the near-empty set. The twenty other extras who were playing fellow prisoners of the Roman Empire are now idling around the set, unlocked shackles lying useless on the floor. This particular production assistant is the fourth one to stop by and the only one who’s shown any concern that Louis’ shackles won’t unlock. Louis had been standing at the craft services table the first time he had laid eyes on him. He had nearly choked on his tea when the production assistant had walked on set, a clipboard in his hand and a phone to his ear. 

Louis had wanted him from the moment he saw him.

“Yes, sir, of course,” the production assistant had said, nodding even though the other person on the line couldn’t see him. “I’ll get started on that right away.”

He had been too busy typing away at his phone that he had walked straight into Louis, spilling his tea all over his shirt. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” he had muttered as he looked up, “I’m so-”

He never got around to finishing his sentence though. 

“Did you really just spill tea all over this extra’s costume?” Caroline, the costume designer, yelled, as she quickly walked over. 

He couldn’t even feel the burn of the tea- not when he had this man standing right in front of him. With long legs, a sharp jawline, and broad shoulders, this man looked like a tree that Louis would very much like to climb. He thought his heart would beat out of his chest when he saw the way that the production assistant was gazing back at him, unblinking, his lips parted ever so slightly. 

“It’s alright,” Louis had mumbled, his eyes still locked with the assistant’s. He was about to step forward just to get closer to him, when he got a face full of paper towels instead. 

“No, love, it’s not alright,” Caroline replied, dabbing furiously at his chest with paper towels. “I thought I had said no drinks once you’re in costume.”

“If he wants to have his tea, Caroline, then let him have his tea,” the production assistant said, his words dripping slow, as he stared at Louis with a dazed look on his face. Caroline turned to him with a smirk on her face. 

“Harry, don’t you have something to do for the director?” she smiled. “Other than flirt with the extras?” 

Harry stumbled away from Louis as if woken from a trance. “I’m not flirting!” he yelped, before turning towards Louis and repeating quietly, “I’m not.” 

Louis’ eyes had narrowed as he recalled the way his pupils had dilated upon seeing him, just a few moments before. "I wouldn’t have minded,” he said, his voice low as he stared directly at Harry. 

Harry’s eyes grew wide, almost comically so, before he bit his bottom lip. Letting his eyes roam over Louis’ body again, he smirked. Louis bit back a smile as he felt his face heat up. Just as he was going to tell Harry that he should take him out for tea, Caroline spoke up again. 

“I’m sorry, love, we’ll have to change your shirt,” she said. “This one’s got tea all over it, thanks to Harry here. Just take this one off, and I’ll get you a new one.”

Before he could try his best to make awkward small-talk with the beautiful assistant, Harry’s phone had rung, and he ran off, a frantic look in his eyes. A short while after that and one cup of tea later, Caroline had returned with an apologetic smile but no shirt in her hands. “Low-budget, and all that,” she had explained. “But don’t worry! We’ll just grease you up, and you’ll look like you’ve just been imprisoned for a very long time! Hollywood magic!”

And that’s how he ended up sitting, four hours later, on the ground in nothing but a loincloth and lots of body oil, his hands shackled to the wall above him, and a gorgeous production assistant hovering dangerously close to him. 

Louis gazes up at Harry. His brows are furrowed in concentration, and parts of his fringe are starting to flop forward. The glare of the studio lights reflects off the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. When Louis notices the way his bottom lip is caught underneath his two front teeth, his fingers tingle with the need to reach out and touch him. Averting his eyes quickly, Louis forces himself to breathe. 

“No worries, mate. It is what it is,” he says. 

Harry’s fingers brush against his hand as he jiggles the lock with the metal key. “I think I’ve almost got it!” 

Louis looks up as he smiles at Harry, hopeful to finally have his hands free. He feels bad enough as it is for stalling production. In the scene they were filming, the main character was supposed to free all of the prisoners and stage a revolution. Being stuck on the ground for what is supposed to be a momentous scene felt, as the director called it, “inauthentic.” Louis just calls it “uncomfortable.” 

He feels the shackles hit the wall behind him suddenly as Harry lets out a gasp. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “Fuck. Fucking shit!”

“What happened?” Louis asked as Harry sat in front of him, his head in his hands. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

“For what?” Louis asks. He glances up at his hands, and _oh._

The key is bent and appears lodged into the lock. 

“I tried too hard to turn the key, and it got stuck,” Harry groans. 

Of all the times that Louis has had his hands locked above his head with an attractive man sweating beside him, this was probably the least sexy. He doesn’t mind the actual shackles as much as he minds the setting. Usually, when he’s in this position, he’s in private, about to have the time of his life. Looking around at the set, with its various crew and cast members scattered about, he is confident that he will not be having that kind of experience any time soon. He sighs as he sinks lower to the ground, his arms straining against the shackles. As he glances around for the director, he catches Harry staring at his bare torso, his lip still caught between his teeth and his knuckles white against his tight jeans. 

_Oh._

If he’s stuck here for the unforeseeable future, he might as well make the most of it. 

His chest heaves as he pushes his wrists against the cool metal restraints, his back arching away from the wall. He parts his lips as he lets out a whimper, quiet enough that only Harry could hear him. "I don’t mind feeling stuck,” Louis murmurs as he turned towards Harry, who seems to have moved even closer to him in the last three seconds. Louis can feel the heat rolling off of his body, can see the barely-there ring of green surrounding his pupils. 

“No?” Harry asks, his eyes roving shamelessly over Louis’ body. Louis makes a mental note to send Caroline some flowers for the way she diligently rubbed body oil all over him. 

Louis shakes his head slowly, giving a small smile. “Not at all. Chains don’t bother me.”

Harry grins as he runs a finger down Louis’ wrist and forearm. The hairs on his arm rise to meet him, and Louis shivers. 

“You like being chained up?” 

Louis nods as he tilts his head back to look at Harry. 

“Not having control of your hands?” Harry asks as his fingertips reach Louis’ shoulder. He runs the tip of his index finger up Louis’ neck before cupping his jaw. He turns it so that Louis is looking right at him, his grip firm. “Not having control at all?”

Louis’ eyes flutter close as he feels the blood rush to his cock. “Yes,” he whispers, his face hot as he strains against the shackles once more. 

“Good,” he says decidedly. “I’m going to go talk to the director.”

“Wait, what?” Louis’ eyes spring open at Harry’s sudden change. Harry sits back, a smirk on his face as he rises to his knees.

Harry approaches Louis and bends down to whisper, his lips tickling his ear. “What’s your color, baby?”

It would be so easy for Louis to turn his head and lick along that jawline, but he resists. He wants to be good for him, in whatever way he can. “Green,” he replies. “Very green.”

“Green,” Harry repeats, as he stands up. “That makes me very happy.”

Louis preens as he tries to sit up straight. 

“I’m going to talk to the director,” Harry tells him again. “I want you to be still while you wait for me to come back.”

“Okay,” Louis breathes, before adding on quietly, “Yes, sir.” 

Harry’s grip on his clipboard tightens when he hears those words. He nods in approval before walking away, the click of his boots matching the thudding beat of Louis’ heart. Louis focuses on sitting very still, resisting the urge to shake his leg or kick his feet. He breathes in and out.

Harry is fifty feet away, speaking in hushed tones with the director. His face is sheepish as he apologizes for what Louis assumes is the broken shackle key. The contrast between that Harry and the Harry that Louis had just been face to face with is startling. The director huffs as he points to his watch, gesturing wildly at the rest of the extras. Louis feels a flash of anger when he sees Harry’s face fall, the way he nervously pushes his glasses up his nose. Louis is no stranger to the cutthroat nature of this business, but he still feels empathy for anyone getting chewed out for a well-intentioned mistake. Harry nods quickly, his eyes sad. He exhales slowly and runs a hand through his curls, before glancing back at Louis. Louis holds his breath as he tries to show him that he’s been following orders- that he’s doing what he asked of him, that he can be good and obey. That he still respects him and wants his approval.

Harry’s lips curl slightly. He begins to return to Louis, his steps slow and decisive, the clipboard still in his hand. 

“I got fired,” he announces, as he slides down the wall beside Louis.

Louis’ seen directors yell at their production assistants. He’s seen crew members walk on eggshells and cry in bathrooms, but he’s never seen anyone fired over something that wasn’t really their fault. 

“That’s bullshit!” He exclaims, his arms gesticulating as wildly as they can get, while his wrists are still chained to the wall.

“That’s showbiz, I guess.”

Harry’s face is glum, his back resting against the wall behind them. The clipboard lies useless by his side. 

“Somehow I feel like this is my fault.” 

Harry turns his head, his brows furrowed. “How would my being fired be your fault? If anything, you’re the only good thing to come of this gig.”

“Yeah?”

Harry angles his body so that he is facing Louis. “Even when that douche was telling me I was stupid, that I had set them behind schedule, I knew you were waiting for me. Being still for me, just like I asked.”

Louis straightens up, even as his shoulders ache. “I like being good for you,” he admits.

“I can’t wait til you can show just how good you can be for me,” Harry murmurs, his voice soft and low. He checks his watch. “Locksmith should be here soon.” 

“And then what?” Louis can’t help but ask.

“Then they break you out of these.”

Louis pushes his wrists against the shackles, fighting back a whimper as he feels the ache of the metal against his wrists. 

“And then?”

“And then, you’ll just have to trust me,” Harry replies, “and see.”

Louis could do that. One of the things he loved most about being a submissive is the ability to turn his mind off and simply trust that his dom would take care of him. In his day to day life, the pressure to succeed makes him scrutinize his every action. Fears that he will never make it big, that his big break will never come, or that it has already passed him by, keep him awake at night. In a way, being tied up, being held down, being told what to do and when to do it is the only time he ever feels free. Sometimes, it’s the only time he feels cared for. 

“I’ll take care of you, Louis,” Harry says, as if able to read his mind. “If that’s what you want.” 

Louis gazes up at him. Harry’s eyes are dark with want as he runs the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. 

“Please tell me that’s what you want, Louis,” he murmurs. 

Louis almost wants to laugh. Here they are, sitting on the floor in the middle of a shitty film set, dozens of people milling around less than a hundred feet away from them. Louis can hear the director ordering the other production assistants around as the other extras chat nervously amongst themselves. Louis’ fingertips are nearly numb from his arms being stuck in the same position for ages, and yet this is the best he has felt in ages. Despite all the people around them, a blend of contentment and excitement thrums through his veins. He nods his head quickly. 

“Yeah, I want that,” he breathes. “Want you to take care of me.” 

Harry gazes at Louis before his eyes drop to his lips, and then his collarbones, and then the rest of his bare torso. Letting out a quick exhale, he scrubs his face with his hand before checking his watch again. “Damnit, where is this locksmith?” he sighs, before groaning loudly. “For fucks sake!”

Louis laughs quietly at his sudden outburst. Up until this point, Harry has been calm and controlled in his interactions with Louis. The thought of Harry losing control on him in other ways makes his laughter tail off. Sitting up straight, he bumps his shoulder against Harry. 

“What should we do while we wait?” 

Harry shakes his head. “We should do nothing. Not sure how much else I can take, just sitting here.” 

Louis smiles coyly, wondering how much he can test the limits while they wait. “I wonder what you’re going to do to me when we get out of here,” he begins. “I wonder what you’ll do first.”

“Louis…” Harry says like a warning, his sharp jawline becoming impossibly sharper with tension. 

“Wonder if you’ll take me against the bathroom wall. Or maybe in some random dressing room.” 

Harry is clutching his clipboard against his lap as he stares straight ahead. Louis pushes against the chains as he whimpers. He’s putting on a show now. He might be a sub, but he’s also a tease. He loves feeling the sheer need of his partner, of pushing them to their limits before they ravage him, reckless and gone out of their minds. 

“It’d be so easy for you to just fuck my face, my arms held up like this,” Louis continues, his voice casual as if he was rambling about the weather. “Or would you take me from behind, use that clipboard to spank-”

“Louis, stop,” Harry interrupts. 

“Why? Not one for dirty talk?” 

His brows furrow in confusion as Harry starts to stand up, the clipboard still in front of his crotch. “No- the locksmith is here.” 

Louis snaps his mouth shut as an older woman kneels down next to him, a toolbox at her side. Harry’s biting back a smile, his shoulders quaking with laughter, as he watches the woman take metal cutters and a handsaw out of her toolbox. She carefully avoids eye contact with both of them- a sign that she heard Louis’ attempts at dirty talk. Blushing, Louis tries to change the subject.

“You’re going to saw these off of me?” Louis asks, his voice shaking as he imagines her hand slipping. 

Harry sits down on the other side of him and places his large hand on his thigh. “Stay calm, baby. She’s a professional.”

Louis stares at his hand and is startled to see how right it looks, how natural it feels. He then starts to imagine that hand doing other things, and he quickly averts his eyes. Focusing on the locksmith’s permed hair, he feels the heat between his legs dissipate slightly. 

“You’re not the first person to get stuck in these,” she says. 

“You get a lot of people who get stuck in cuffs and shackles?” Louis smiles. 

“Well, they’re usually in the privacy of their own home. Or maybe on... er... other... kinds of movie sets. But, yes,” she replies, as she begins to saw through the chain around his wrist. 

Harry must notice Louis’ breath hitch in fear because he rubs small circles on the inside of Louis’ knee with his thumb. “Easy,” he whispers. 

Louis closes his eyes and focuses on Harry’s voice, his touch. And it suddenly feels easier.

“We’re almost out of here,” Harry breathes. “And after this, the only thing that’ll be holding you down is me.”

Louis whimpers, his eyes still closed. 

“Nearly cut through,” the locksmith reassures him, mistakenly thinking that his whimper was of pain and not pleasure. 

“Will you get down on your knees for me? Get down so I can fuck your face?” 

“Fuck,” Louis whines quietly.

He opens his eyes to spot a slight blush to the locksmith’s cheeks. He wonders if Harry was really as subtle as he intended, but he doesn’t have time to care when he realizes that his arms are suddenly free. 

“You’re free! … to do whatever it is you were trying to do!” the locksmith announces as she stands up and gathers her tools quickly. As she walks aways just as quickly, Louis spots a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Cheers!” Louis exclaims. 

“Glad I can be of service!” she replies, winking at them as she looks over her shoulder. 

Before Louis could make another joke back, Harry speaks.

“What’s your color?” 

They lock eyes, and all Louis can think is-

“Green. Green, green, green,” Louis chants. 

Harry rises to his feet. Looming over him, he takes a breath before giving Louis an order. 

“Stand up.”

Louis clambers to his feet, his legs wobbly and his vision blacking slightly as the blood rushes to his head. 

“Alright?” Harry asks gently, his hand steadying Louis by his elbow. The juxtaposition of this soft and gentle gesture with the cold directions and the firm press of his hands sends tingles through Louis’ bones. He wants it all. 

“Yes sir,” he says quietly. “I‘m more than alright.” 

Harry stands in front of Louis, just inches away from Louis’ bare chest. Louis stares up at his lips from beneath his eyelashes, his mind wandering to how those lips might feel against his skin as they whisper commands. Harry grips Louis’ chin as he directs his gaze upwards. 

“There’s a dressing room down the hall to the right. I want you to go in, lock the door, and wait for me,” Harry directs, his voice barely above a whisper. “On your knees, like a good boy.” 

Louis feels himself nodding uselessly, his words failing him. 

Harry squeezes his arm above his elbow before pushing him slightly in the direction of the hallway. Louis begins walking past other extras and crew members, only slightly aware of their presence, their stares. He wonders if they can tell what he is about to do. Thinking of other people recognizing the haze in his eyes and the focused electricity coming off his body makes his head spin.

A few moments later, Louis arrives in front of the dressing room. He glances quickly around him to see if anyone is around. Only seeing an empty hallway, he hurries into the dark room, which is lit only by a lone desk lamp. To the left of the door are racks of clothing against the wall, scarves and shirts hung on hangers. Along the opposite wall is a table, covered in suitcases and toiletries. He spots a door leading possibly to a bathroom along the next wall. Floor to ceiling mirrors run along the fourth wall. Opposite from the mirrors, in the middle of the room, is a black leather couch atop a plain area rug.

Despite wishing the carpet was softer and that this were about to happen in the privacy of his bedroom, the thought of Harry making his way to him sends him to his knees. Kneeling on the floor, he interlaces his fingertips together behind his back and lowers his head. Worry seeps into his mind as he wonders if this is how Harry wants him to kneel, if he should be naked, if he should kneel on the couch instead. He wants to be on the receiving end of Harry’s soft words of approval, he wants to make him happy. Before he can fidget even more, the door swings open.

Harry stands in the doorway, his hair wild as if he had just run his fingers through his strands, his glasses just slightly askew. He closes the door before speaking.

“I’ve had a hard day at work, Louis,” he says wearily, walking closer to Louis. Running the pad of his index finger along Louis’ bare shoulders, he sighs. “All day long, I take orders from shitty directors. I run around trying to please them.”

Louis lowers his head as Harry runs his fingers through his fringe. His cock is already hardening, just by the sound of his voice.

“I usually don’t have anyone who listens to what _I_ want, what _I_ need,” he continues. “Nobody ever asks how they would please me.”

Louis shivers. He wants to please Harry. 

“I know you do, kitten,” Harry murmurs in response to what Louis didn’t realize he had said aloud. “And that’s because you’re a good boy, right?”

Louis nods, his eyes still downcast.

“But good boys don’t tease their doms in public, do they?” Harry asks, hitting his palm with the clipboard as the tension rises to his jaw once more. “Not like you did. Saying the things you did for anyone to hear.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I-“

“I don’t want to punish you, but-“

“Please, sir, I want to-”

“You don’t get to tell me what you want, babe. I tell you what you can get, and you take whatever that is.”

“Yes sir.”

“Even if it’s just my cock in your mouth, or in your hand. Even if it’s just me jerking off while you watch.” 

Louis feels his eyes grow heavy as he sways. He was already sinking under before he even got to the dressing room, and hearing Harry’s words, feeling his power beside him, makes him feel like he’s drowning in the best way possible. He feels himself shake his head eagerly, even though the thought of not getting to feel Harry all over him, inside of him, makes him want to scream in frustration. He wills himself not to whine.

Harry grips his jaw again, gently this time. “But you’ve had a hard day too, haven’t you? Had to sit there, your hands chained up, everyone seeing you.”

Louis whimpers as Harry weaves his fingers through his hair, pulling it so his neck is even more stretched. He loves the feeling of being at Harry's mercy, his body on display for him, all for his taking. 

“I’m going to give you what you deserve, baby,” Harry breathes, pulling Louis by his hair up to standing. The pull is just on the right side of painful, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard. “Get on the couch.”

Louis rushes to the couch, leaning over one of the armrests, his back arched as he presents himself to Harry. Even though he still has on that ridiculous loincloth, he feels vulnerable and exposed. Feeling the strain of his hard cock against the cloth, he realizes that he could stay in the heat of Harry’s appraising stare all day. Harry stands in front of Louis, tapping his clipboard against his large palm. Louis looks up at him, his lips parted. As they lock eyes, Harry’s lips quirk.

“Would you like this, kitten? Want to know what this would feel like against your skin?” 

Louis nods, his words failing him once again. 

“We can start at ten, but let’s take this off first,” Harry says, kneeling behind Louis as he slips his thumbs beneath his waistband. Louis feels cool air followed by the warmth of Harry’s hands against his bare arse. He lets his eyes close, the knot in his stomach growing as he waits for that delicious pain. 

He is surprised to feel Harry’s lips brush against his cheekbone. Fluttering his eyes open, he sees Harry kneeling in front of him. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Harry murmurs, bringing his lips so close that Louis can nearly taste the mint of the gum in Harry’s mouth. Louis tilts his head up to close the gap, their lips finally meeting. 

After a morning of waiting, teasing, wanting, Louis feels like he can turn to jelly just from one kiss. He pushes forward as he chases Harry’s lips, a whimper escaping him as he feels Harry stand abruptly. 

Harry tsks as he grips the clipboard again. “What did I say earlier about taking what I give you?”

His face falls as he realizes his mistake.

“I won’t do it again, I promise,” he stammers. “I’ll be good.”

He feels Harry’s hand glide over his arse, his fingertips digging in slightly. “I know you will, baby. Tell me your color.”

“Green, sir,” Louis says, pushing his hips up and back towards Harry.

“Count for me,” Harry says. Before Louis can get the word “one” out, he feels a sharp sting against his right cheek. 

“One,” he breathes. Harry rubs his left cheek soothingly, before he slaps it with his clipboard, the force of it pushing Louis forward just slightly.

“Two,” Louis gasps.

He thought he was hard earlier, but with each slap of the clipboard against his arse, he grows impossibly harder still. He can hear his voice cry out as he chants, “three,” “four,” and “five.” Beyond that, his voice sounds far away, even to his own ears. "Six," he whimpers, before Harry delivers three more in quick succession. He pauses to let Louis catch up in his counting. "Seven... eight... nine." His knuckles are white as they grip the sofa edge, and he’s vaguely aware of the shake in his voice as he cries out, “Ten!”

He can feel Harry’s palms rub over the angry red of his skin. It’s too much over his sensitive skin, but he wants to be good. He hasn’t earned what comes after just yet.

“So good, Lou, so good for me,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing against his hole. 

Louis jerks forward at his touch, his mouth dropping open as he begins to plead. 

“Please, Harry, more.”

He looks behind him to see Harry pull out a packet of lube from his back pocket. If he didn't feel like he was slowly sinking under, he would have teased him for having the audacity to have lube in his pocket, but as it is, all he can do is sigh in relief as stares at him. His skin heats even more when he realizes that Harry is still fully-clothed as he stands behind his naked body. 

“Tell me you want this,” Harry orders, moving slightly backwards away from him, even as Louis arches his arse closer to his hips.

“Yes, please. Anything,” Louis rambles. “I’m green. Green, so green.”

He can hear Harry moan, followed by the sound of the sachet ripping. Harry pushes Louis’ shoulders down so that his elbows flop uselessly to the armrest.

“I want you to look at the floor, baby. No peeking.”

Louis’ head snaps downward, and he trains his eyes on a spot on the linoleum tile. He feels Harry’s slicked-up finger prod at his hole before it slowly dips in, going deeper and deeper at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Look at that,” Harry marvels, as he adds a second finger. “Look at you taking it.”

“Born to take it,” Louis mumbles.

“Yeah?” Harry breathes. A moment after Louis nods, he pushes in two fingers at once, stretching his tight heat with a sudden fervor. He pumps his fingers in and out, angling them until Louis squeals, his whole body going tense. 

Louis can hear himself whining into his fist, his saliva dripping onto the armrest. He feels so far under already, so helpless and out of control. He wants Harry so bad, but when he tries to think of how to tell him, his mind comes up blank. He mouths uselessly against his arm, against the armrest.

“Baby, I need to know you’re with me,” Harry says, his fingers still inside of him.

Louis wants to chase that feeling of weightlessness, that place beyond thoughts, beyond words, beyond power. He finds the energy to nod. “Green,” he whispers. 

“Want this cock, then? Think you deserve it?” Harry asks, thrusting his still-clothed cock against Louis’ thigh. The feeling of his jeans is rough against the raw skin, and Louis’ cock throbs. 

“Please, sir,” Louis whimpers, tears springing to his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

He can hear Harry unzip his pants. The heat of his body behind him disappears, and Louis fights the urge to look up. Suddenly, he sees Harry’s feet below him. 

“Open up, baby,” Harry says, as he grips his cock at its base. Louis’ eyes widen as he takes in the sheer size of it. But still, he opens his mouth and leans forward, his lips barely fitting around Harry’s thick and long length. He licks around the head before sucking the tip into his mouth, dragging his tongue along the sensitive underside. Above him, he hears Harry breathing heavily.

“Look up, Louis, show me those eyes.”

Louis gazes up through his lashes as he takes in more of his length. He wants to take him all the way down, so he breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat.

“Jesus, fuck,” Harry murmurs as his hand goes to grasp at Louis’ hair. “Look at that, taking me all the way down.”

Louis is aware of tears springing to his eyes as he stares up at Harry. Harry experimentally draws his hips back before thrusting his cock back down Louis’ throat. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck your throat? Gonna take it like a good boy?” 

Louis whimpers as he minutely nods, his jaw feeling sore. Harry moans under his breath as he starts to fuck his cock into Louis’ mouth, his hips moving slowly at first before he seems to lose himself in a rhythm. Louis closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, savoring the heavy feel of Harry against his tongue. He feels his gaze start to blur as he lets him use his mouth. 

“God, look at you just take it. Desperate for it,” Harry mutters, as he shoves it deep down Louis’ throat and holds his head down. Louis begins to sputter, and Harry pushes him off of him as he starts to cough.

“So good, baby, so good at sucking my cock,” he rambles. “Wanna fuck you now.”

Louis looks up at him, careful not to plead for it, wanting to show him that he’ll take whatever he’s given. 

“Color.”

Louis nods, his voice barely a rasp. “Green, sir.”

Harry hurries to peel off the rest of his clothes before positioning himself behind him. Louis hears the rip of a condom wrapper, the squelching sound of lube being tugged over his cock. He thrusts his cock between his cheeks, letting the head catch on his rim in an ever-maddening tease. It’s only when he feels the press of Harry’s cock against his needy hole that he exhales.

“Fuck,” Harry moans, pushing forward until his hips are flush against Louis’ arse. “I’m gonna give it to you, baby, you’ve been so good.”

Louis feels himself nodding, his whole body feeling like an earthquake. 

Harry starts to thrust in and out, the sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed with the sounds of their moans, filling the room.

“Be quiet, baby,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear, his chest pressing into Louis’ back as his arms bracket him in. “Or else everyone will hear you, will know how much you’re begging for it.”

Louis gasps before he squeezes his lips shut, trying his best not to make any noise. Harry angles his hips then to brush against his prostate. With each thrust, Louis grows more sensitive until finally, it feels like he is a string tuned tightly, and Harry is playing him past his breaking point. 

“Oh, fuck,” Louis cries, before clamping his teeth down onto his fist. He jolts forward as Harry spanks his arse again.

“I said, be quiet… or else I’ll stop,” Harry warns, even as he continues to fuck him. He spanks his other cheek, before slapping the other side again in quick succession. He shoves two of his fingers into Louis’ mouth, and Louis is helpless but to take them. “Consider this a warning.”

Tears pour down Louis’ face as he sucks sloppily on Harry’s fingers. He focuses on staying very still and very quiet, even as Harry fucks into him so hard that he can feel the couch moving forward across the floor. 

“Christ, Louis, you feel-“ Harry breathes as his hips snap, “you feel so fucking good.” 

Harry pulls out suddenly. Louis nearly collapses as his head fills with confusion. He doesn’t dare to look anywhere but at the floor, remembering Harry’s directions from earlier. He hears Harry sit down on the couch behind him before he pulls Louis on top of him, his grip sure to leave bruises on his hips.

“Sit on my cock,” he demands, lining up his cock with Louis’ hole.

Louis nods, eager to please. His thighs shake as he starts to sink down, the angle making him feel even fuller than before. He feels like he can barely breathe when he takes Harry all the way down. His thighs feel like jelly where they’re squeezed on either side of Harry’s hips. Dizzy, he lets his eyes close as he lays his head on Harry’s shoulder. He tries to bounce up and down, but he feels like he is barely moving. 

“Louis, love, tell me your color,” Harry says, his voice gentle in louis’ ear.

Louis wants to say green. He wants to ride Harry and make him feel good. He wants to take what Harry is giving him, wants to finish what they started.

But he feels like he can barely speak, his mind so far away. He is trying to tell his body to move but it’s like there’s some disconnect. He feels like he’s drowning, but this time, the surface feels just far enough out of reach that he ends up feeling scared. 

He wants to say green, but all that can come out is-

“Red,” he manages to whisper as his eyes start to burn. “I can’t, I’m sorry, Harry, I messed up-“

“Baby, baby, no, it’s okay,” Harry rushes to say, his hands cradling Louis against his chest. “No more playing, okay? We can stop.”

“I wanna be good,” Louis whispers, tears blurring his vision. “I just wanna be good.”

“You _are_ good, love, you’re the best. You’re so amazing, baby, you-“

“I ruined it,” Louis cries. “We’ve been planning this scene for so long, ever since I got the part-“

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so good to me, love, so so good,” Harry says gently, his hands running over Louis’ spine before carding through his hair. “There’ll be other times.”

Louis has always loved this part- when Harry’s hands would rub soothing circles all over his body, bringing him to a quiet stillness, when his deep voice would be the guide to bring him back up to the surface. When Louis moved to LA, he felt like the film and TV industry was simultaneously like living in a small town, where everyone knew each other’s business, and hustling in a big city, where connections were quick to be made and just as quick to lose. He felt like he was stumbling in the dark, in pursuit of some impossible dream. He’d go home after casting calls and tiring shoots where he was another nameless extra in the background. There were moments when he wondered if it was all worth it, if he should just pack up his bags and go home. 

Luckily, he had met Harry during one of his first jobs.

It was like Harry made the weight of his dreams feel lighter. In an industry that often left Louis feeling like dirt, Harry always managed to make him feel like a million bucks. 

In Harry, Louis found his perfect match, his soulmate, his dom. They didn’t always play, but each time they did felt better than the last. 

“Let’s pretend we’re strangers and do a scene at work, for your birthday,” Louis had suggested, one morning as they laid in bed. They had been together for awhile, and Louis was in full support of keeping things fun. “We’ll both be at the same shoot- that hasn’t happened in ages!”

“Babe, how do you expect to do a scene at work? We’ll be… well, _working_ ,” Harry asked, as he brushed his nose against Louis’ collarbones. “It’s not like we’ll have time or anything.”

Louis had simply rolled his eyes. “You’re the one in charge, sir,” he had replied in a purr. “You figure it out.” 

Now in this dressing room, Louis sits up, aware of Harry’s hard cock still inside of him. “You still think I’m good?” he asks, tears still falling from his eyes. 

Harry nods, pulling Louis into a kiss. “You always are, baby. Let me make you feel good now.”

Louis pulls back as he looks into Harry’s eyes, gentle and open as they gaze up at him. He nods as he leans his head on his shoulder. “Please, sir,” he says. “I wanna feel good.”

Harry thrusts up gently into Louis, his hips rolling into a rhythm that has Louis gasping against the skin of Harry’s neck. Harry’s head hooks over Louis’ shoulder, his glasses slipping down his sweat-slick face. “Turn around and look at the mirror, babe, look at how good you look.”

Louis glances over his shoulder. He never thought he was into mirror sex, but watching the way Harry’s cock is pumping in and out of him, seeing his red arse bounce slightly with each thrust, he lets out a moan.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, unable to tear his eyes away. He looks at the way Harry’s hands hold his arse as he guides Louis up and down along his length. Seeing Harry stare up at Louis as he fucks him make Louis feel like he’s flying. 

“Baby, can I try something?” Harry asks, his movements stilling. Louis stares down at him, his brows furrowed in a silent question. “Stay on top, but just turn around. Want you to face the mirror as I fuck you.”

Louis’ mouth goes dry as he thinks of the image. He rises to his knees, his legs still weak. Harry helps guide him as he starts to sit back down onto his cock, his back resting against his chest. 

“Fuck, look at you, so perfect, just taking my cock,” Harry groans. Picking up Louis’ legs under his knees, he thrusts up. “Louis, please, I need-“

Louis knows that Harry’s nearly there. Holding back on Louis is his own form of submission. Even if they’re not formally in a scene anymore, Louis doesn’t want Harry to hold back on him anymore. He still wants to see how much he can take.

“Fuck me, H. Give it to me.”

Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his grip tightens. He starts pumping his cock up and down wildly, as Louis just sits there, his legs flailing with each thrust. He feels powerless to Harry, but with Harry’s strong hold around his torso and legs, he feels safe. He lets his head fall back against Harry’s shoulder. Harry kisses him sloppily, their mouths just a breath apart. His gasps turn to moans, all pretenses of being quiet gone.

“I wanna see you come,” Harry whispers, his hand reaching around to jerk off his aching cock. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Always feels good,” Louis whimpers as his cock becomes even wetter with precome. “Always so good to me.”

Harry knows his body well enough to know when he’s close. Angling up into Louis’ body, he finds his prostate again. Thrusting up, he fucks into Louis, hitting that spot each time.

Louis feels tears on his face again, but they feel like freedom.

“Close,” he cries. “Harry, please... don’t stop.”

Harry mouths against Louis’ shoulder as his thrusts become more erratic. “I’ll never stop- never stop wanting you, wanting this,” he moans. “My good boy, my good, _good_ boy.”

And that’s what does it. 

Louis feels like he’s falling over a precipice as his cock spurts hot white all over his chest, up to his chin. His body seizes and shakes, electricity thrumming through him as he shouts out Harry’s name. Harry comes with a shout, as he bites down at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder. They sit there on the couch, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, before Harry taps Louis’ hip. Louis slides off of Harry, boneless. Harry carefully ties off the full condom before throwing it away in the bathroom. He emerges with a bottle of lotion.

“Turn over, love.”

Louis lays down, his cheek resting against the leather of the couch. He feels Harry’s hands rub the smooth liquid over the sensitive skin. Staring at the mirror, he smiles at how tender Harry is being.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “Always take such good care of me.”

Harry smiles back at him, almost shy in the way he hides his dimples.

“I love you too, Lou,” he says quietly. “Did you end up having a good time?”

Louis snorts. “I think the answer is pretty obvious.”

Harry shakes his head fondly. He kisses the back of Louis’ head before he moves down to the spot between his shoulder blades. Tossing his glasses to the floor, he covers Louis’ smaller body with his own, resting his head beside him. “Thank you, baby,” he says, as he rubs lotion over Louis’ wrists, a bit red from the shackles.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Louis smiles before turning his head to glance at his boyfriend. Confusion settles across his face. “But, how would we have done this if the key actually worked?”

He can feel Harry’s smile against his neck. “I… might have… ya know…”

“Harold! You planned that?” Louis gasps, staring over his shoulder at him in amazement. 

“I just used the wrong key. I didn’t think I’d get fired over it though,” he shrugs, his face falling slightly.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Harry shakes his head. “This director’s a dick. He’s got a bit of a reputation for firing assistants,” he replies. “And anyway, it makes me feel less guilty for shagging my fit boyfriend on set.”

Louis smiles as he arches his back, pushing his arse against Harry’s still half-hard cock.

“Might as well make the most of it,” Louis says, glancing at the mirror and noticing the way Harry’s eyes have fluttered shut as his cock fills up against his bare thigh.

“Might as well,” Harry replies as he sits back onto his heels. Digging his fingertips into Louis’ hips, he presses a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck. His hands pull Louis’ hips up and back, and as he starts pounding into him once again, Louis swears he can see stars.


End file.
